Transformers Earthbound
by Hewlett
Summary: In the vast multiverse, countless tales of the Transformers and their conflicts across the universe have been told. Here is but one of them. Everything is new, everything is familiar, and the war arrives once more on Earth.


TRANSFORMERS: EARTHBOUND

Book One: Earthbound

Chapter One: Old Friends

"God damn."

Alexander Llewellyn was not happy. In fact, looking at the way things were going, it was unlikely he was going to be happy for a good length of time: at least a month. Maybe even longer.

"I'm sorry, Alexander? I didn't quite catch that."

In his head, Alex imagined himself throwing his desk to the floor, leaping with a frenzied cry and throttling the intolerably smug teacher who was looking down her nose at him. But he also knew that wasn't happening any time soon, because he was a teenage boy of average means and she was a teacher - inexorably, unavoidably in a position of authority above him.

The cause of his outburst was the fact that he had just been assigned a particularly lengthy essay on SETI for his Astronomy class. He had been expecting it: they had not done any of the crucial work for weeks, instead focusing on simpler stuff, going back over the basics, because a good portion of the class had either forgotten them or had simply failed to pay attention during the earliest lessons, which meant that as the weeks had gone by, they had fallen further and further behind...

Alexander was sure that it was the latter. He'd seen their grades, sneaked a look at the papers to satisfy a burning curiosity as to how well he was doing. He was pretty sure that his looking at the grades was what had provoked this particular piece of work, because he'd been handed the paper and no-one else had. A particularly vicious part of him thought it would be reasonable to return the piece with some biting satire, like assembling the lyrics to an unpopular song down the side of the page or writing the whole thing in an invented alien language to make it more 'authentic'. He'd done things like that before, but nothing had come of it. Perhaps he wasn't trying hard enough.

Shortly afterwards, the school day ended and so Alex slipped out, hoping to avoid further wrath from Ms. Thompson, that most formidable of teachers who had presented him with this unpalatable work. It wasn't so much the fact that it was difficult - Alex was sure that he could breeze through it but the fact that he had to do it at all. He was being punished for being ahead of the rest of his class (alright, perhaps he was also being punished for sneaking a look at the grades, but he didn't necessarily see a problem with that) and that irked him. _Still, might as well get it done_, he thought. _I mean, it is on the curriculum: I do, in fact, require the information_. He exited the school building and would probably have never noticed Roberto if he hadn't been suddenly picked up from behind by him.

"Alex, you wily bastard! Where do you think you're going?" Was his single sentence, but it sold him as Roberto immediately - there was no mistaking the Hispanic twang, the distinctive burr. It wouldn't have even taken that few people would have picked Alex up and given him a bear hug, but Roberto was one of them. Once Alex was safely back on his feet, he responded.

"Better question is, where the hell have you been?"

"Oh, you know, man! I've been places, seen stuff."

This was a typical answer for Roberto Reyes, for the man was an incorrigible drifter, afflicted most terribly with wanderlust. But Alex was having none of it. Roberto was one of his closest, oldest friends, and this was a particularly long absence. Alex retorted with;

"For three months? You don't even have a car!"

And indeed this was true Roberto did not have a car. But Roberto, a wicked grin on his amber face, gestured sideways, to the edge of the kerb: and there it was. A little dented, a little dinged, but indeed, there was a car.

"That car enough for you?"

* * *

><p>Shortly afterwards, Alexander and Roberto were stuck in traffic en-route to the formers house, which was twelve blocks away. This gave Alex an opportunity to grill his erstwhile best buddy.<p>

"Be honest, where have you been, 'Berto? We've been worried here."

"What, you, my Mom, and your family? Face it, dude: I am a solo flyer. There aren't many who miss me when I jaunt. Go jaunting. Become jaunty. And I always come back okay, so you guys who do worry should not be worrying."

"Not likely, dude: you're like a brother to me and a son to my parents. And your Dad loves you a whole lot."

"I agree, 'Lex, but can you think of anyone else?"

Alex couldn't, and with good reason. Roberto was an abrasive character, chafing under any authority and rejecting anyone he deemed a 'suck-up', and so he had burned a great deal of his bridges a long time ago. Since he had graduated the previous summer, his lust for adventure had drawn him out of sight or indeed out of town more often than Alex cared to recall, but this in itself was not a cause for distress for Roberto's loved ones. It was more the regular clashes with the law, most frequently caused by 'Berto's use of the five-finger discount or his flagrant disregard for the speed limit, that caused them to tear their hair out and despair. Thinking about this, Alex was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that there was a dinged-up remote-controlled truck in the back seat, which was exactly the kind of weird junk Roberto frequently helped himself to. Alex felt it best to question its presence.

"Uh... 'Berto, what's with the truck?"

Berto flashed that same wicked grin, but stayed silent, and when the light turned, the car moved on.

Perhaps this is a good moment to talk about the car.

It was a 1977 Second Generation Camaro Z28 possessed of a warm, dark yellow base-colour and what must have been custom-painted racing stripes across the length of the car, although the paint was a little faded and there were (admittedly small) patches of rust. It had that characteristic chrome bumper, the angled fender, the extended hood, and there were neat little touches to it, like the pinstripes running around the racing stripes, and despite its being a little worse for wear a dent here, a scratch there, the aforementioned faded paint and rust it was an impressive beast and Alex was impressed with 'Berto's latest acquisition, although he knew its origins were likely dubious. He chose not to pursue that line of thinking, though, because 'Berto's remaining in town was a fragile thing, but it might have been better for him in the long run if he had questioned his erstwhile companion as to the nature of the car. Unbeknownst to him, this particular vehicle had been acquired by Roberto on his latest trip out of town from a shady and, even for Roberto, excessively weird group of associates. In fact, the contents of the car were also highly suspect, none more so than the toy truck in the back seat, which had been given to him for purposes that even he was unsure about. It was this car, and that toy truck, that were to drop the duo head-first into what can only be described as the biggest mess they would ever end up in - the sort that didn't just have repercussions for Roberto and Alex, but for everyone in the world.

As the Camaro drove off at just above the speed limit towards Alex's house, a motorcycle pulled around the corner leading into that street. Its rider was clad in sleek leather and a helmet that obscured the majority of his head, although what could be seen of his face was a mouth that displayed no emotion and a neat, wide moustache. The cycle, predominantly black, was decorated with acid-green circuitry detailing and customised with some heavy, spiked cowling on the fork. There was a visible marking that stood out a cool, rich purple image of a jagged, pointed face akin to some sort of lizard's skull, neatly emblazoned on the side. The bike headed off in the same direction as Alex and Roberto at exactly the speed limit.

The trouble had already begun.


End file.
